The wormhole began to expand as it slid across the ground, depositing equipment that had been inside the large assembly dome along with the engineeringbots. Then one of the smaller domes came through, followed by the wormhole generator itself. The wormhole closed.
‘Now what?’ Florian asked.
‘Is there any alien species which isn’t hostile to us?’ Ry asked plaintively. ‘Seriously? Just one?’
‘A great many,’ Paula said. ‘Some of them very wonderful.’
‘But none of them seem to be here,’ Kysandra remarked.
‘The Raiel are.’
‘I hope to Giu you’re right.’
‘Get the equipment into the dome,’ Paula told the ANAdroids. ‘This dust can’t be doing their systems any good.’
The engineeringbots started to move. Paula performed a fast biononic field function scan on the dust, which turned out to be made up of exceptionally complex molecules. It was a thick layer, extending down several metres; her scan couldn’t reach whatever solid surface lay below.
The dust was swirling round them like a mild fog, agitated by the engineeringbots as they carried equipment into the dome. She bent down and pressed her open palm onto the dust. Her field function sent a weak magnetic pulse into it. A clump of the airborne motes round her wrist sparkled for an instant.
‘Pixie dust,’ she murmured. She told her u-shadow to transmit the Commonwealth first-contact interpretation package.
‘What are you trying to do?’ Kysandra asked.
‘Get the attention of the Planters. The dust is some kind of nano, but inert.’ Her biononics started pumping the dust with a magnetic field.
‘Oh Uracus,’ Florian groaned. ‘I thought you said it turned grey as a defence mechanism.’
‘The colour isn’t really relevant.’
‘Wow!’ Ry yelled.
Paula saw it. A streak of jade phosphorescence a couple of metres wide, shooting away from them through the dust, moving at what the mind interpreted as close to lightspeed.
‘Did you see it? What was it?’
Paula’s field function scan expanded, just in time to catch a tangerine streak rushing in the opposite direction. It identified a minute quantum signature shift in the dust’s molecular structure. She shut down the magnetic field and sent the Commonwealth first-contact interpretation package again.
More coloured bands of pale light began flickering through the dust, as if an even brighter source of light was blazing just below the surface. Abruptly, the entire dust plane turned a sharp metallic purple right out to the sharp horizon. It also became solid as the dust motes locked together. Footprints smoothed out, as did the furrows made by the engineeringbots shifting equipment into the dome.
A circle of the surface eight metres wide turned black. It started to rise up, the top of a chrome-yellow cylinder, which kept on extending. Paula’s field function scan followed it, measuring at three hundred metres high when it finally stopped growing. Then her biononics reported she was being subjected to a very sophisticated field function scan.
Her u-shadow reported a link ping.
‘Greetings,’ she acknowledged.
‘We haven’t encountered humans before.’
‘I believe we come from the same galaxy,’ Paula said. ‘Humans have encountered artefacts you left behind.’ She sent a file with images of the gigalife the Sheldons had found.
‘Those are our “offshoots” – I do not believe you have a linguistic determination for our relationship with the pieces you encountered. I deduce you determined their compositional nature and produced the micro-particles implanted in your cells?’
‘We did. I hope we have not offended you by doing so?’
‘No. It is the nature of early biological life to examine and exploit its environment. We understand this.’
‘Thank you. May I ask what you are?’
‘We have no name. Our nature is omega, the essence of all life which evolved on our home planet. Now we are one, but separate. Parts of us travelled to new stars. We grew again on lifeless planets. This particular planet was taken into the construct you call the Void. We refused its transformative purpose, and began to seek an exit within quantum manipulation of spacetime. It expelled us here.’
‘You said you travelled between stars. Can you leave here?’
‘We have already left this world. We do not know if that part of us which exited reached a galaxy. It is a formidable gulf to traverse, even for us. But we are content here. This sun will last for billions of years, allowing us to progress our thoughts.’
‘But when the Prime came, you changed.’
‘This is a different state for us. Equivalentize it to your sleep if you will. The aggressive biologicals, the Prime, who came here to claim land and material, are short-lived relative to us. We simply await their end or transformation to enlightenment.’
‘They are ended. A human destroyed them.’
‘That is regrettable. Life is precious.’
‘There is another lifeform banished to this star that threatens humans. The Fallers. They are a self-modified biological, redesigned for genocidal colonization. Can you help us defeat them?’
‘We do not engage in conflict. We prefer shelter.’
‘I wouldn’t ask you to fight,’ Paula said. ‘However, I believe we have allies inside Valatare. I need to release them.’
‘Valatare is a strange construct. It was here when we came to this star.’
‘I have located what I believe to be the generator mechanism which produces it. Our wormhole can reach it. If we do that, can you analyse it for me and determine how to switch it off?’
‘If we did this, would your allies end the Fallers?’
‘There are many options available. All I want to achieve is to return humans to our galaxy, our culture. That is all I will ask them for.’
‘Very well. We will examine the Valatare generator.’
‘Thank you.’
5
Midnight had long passed when the small convoy drove through the centre of Varlan without stopping. Orders had been issued from the master general himself, allowing them to pass any roadblocks – of which there were many – unimpeded.
Sitting in the front passenger seat of the lead car, Chaing looked out nervously at the darkened deserted streets. Headlights picked out derelict stationary trams that had ground to a halt between stations. Every now and then, a regiment troop carrier would trundle the other way, but nothing else moved. That was unnerving. The capital had always possessed a thriving nightlife, and usually at this time the streets and boulevards would be thronging with people enjoying the multitude of clubs and theatres. But now there were no lights, either, save the occasional glimpse of a candle flickering behind curtained windows. The whole city was in darkness.
For all he knew every building had been abandoned. There was no way to tell.
‘Is the blackout part of martial law?’ he asked the uniformed PSR driver.
‘No, sir. The bastards hit our power stations late this afternoon. I’ve heard on the radio the engineers will have the power back on by morning.’
‘Good to know,’ Chaing said, not believing it.
The Air Defence Force base just outside the city, where they’d landed, had been busy. In the few minutes they took to transfer Roxwolf to an armoured prisoner transport truck, Chaing had counted five big four-engined transport planes taking off and heading north.
Operation crudding Reclaim. Where every senior government official runs away to Byarn to try and save their arse. Well, if the Trees do fly down to low orbit and the egg bombardment begins, there won’t be anything to reclaim.
At the far end of Bryan-Anthony Boulevard, every window of the palace shone bright electric light out into the night, as if it was taunting the deprived city. Chaing had never been inside before, and found himself as daunted by its scale as any tourist. The convoy drove through archways to a courtyard, then down a ramp. They stopped in some big underground
garage, where a squad of armed and nervous Palace Guards was waiting.
The chief scientist of Section Seven’s advanced science division was in charge. Chaing was interested to see it was an old woman wearing a thick beige cardigan against the cool night air. His first thought was: she’s old enough to be Stonal’s sister.
Faustina signed the release papers and the Palace Guard lieutenant in charge of the detail marched Roxwolf away.
‘See you at the end of the world, captain,’ the mutant Faller called out to Chaing.
Chaing gave him an icy stare that had reduced many an interrogation prisoner to a sweaty wreck, but Roxwolf just responded with a grin that showed off more fangs. Behind him, he heard Jenifa snort in contempt.
‘I don’t like it,’ she said. ‘He’s too confident.’
‘Nothing to lose,’ Corilla commented. The Eliter girl was busy looking round the bleak cavernous garage.
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s where he wants to be,’ Jenifa said.
‘It was Stonal who ordered us to bring him here,’ Chaing said. ‘Argue it with him.’
Faustina came over and shook hands with Chaing. ‘I heard you were the one who apprehended him, captain. Congratulations. Quite a catch.’
‘Thank you.’
‘We’ve never seen a living breeder Faller before, and certainly not a mutant like him.’
‘Are you going to dissect him?’ Jenifa asked.
‘Great Giu, no,’ the old scientist said, quite shocked. ‘We know their biology. It’s their way of thinking I’m interested in. And from what little I’ve heard that I understand, he’s disaffected with his own kind.’
‘So he claims,’ Jenifa said.
‘But he volunteered the information that the Trees will fly into low orbit.’
‘He’ll say anything to stay alive.’
‘Right.’ Faustina seemed perplexed by her attitude. ‘Director Stonal is waiting for you.’
‘Including her?’ Jenifa jerked a thumb at Corilla.
‘Yes, apparently. I have your passes.’ Faustina held out three laminated badges. ‘Please wear them prominently at all times while you are in the palace – especially down here.’
Chaing followed a corporal from the Palace Guard along several corridors, then they started down some interminable stairs. His leg was throbbing badly by the time they reached the bottom. This basement level was obviously newer than the rest of the labyrinth under the palace, with bright electric bulbs illuminating white walls, and the metal doors were flush fitting with electric locks. The one at the end had four armed guards outside. They all had to show their badges before they were allowed in.
*
The stone-walled gaol cell was a reasonable size. It had a bed with a decent mattress, a table, and a chair. There was a shower in one corner, along with a toilet and basin. There was even a small bookshelf, stacked with some novels about regiment heroics, and Slvasta’s official biography, running to over a thousand pages. It lacked windows, but then it was six floors underground. To emphasize this, ribbons of slimy algae leaked out of the mortar and down one wall. Three meals were supplied each day through the hatchway in the door. Reasonable food, too.
Joey had stayed in worse hotels.
So far he hadn’t been questioned, which made him rather glad. There were residual Adolphus memories washing round his head about PSR interviews, and he didn’t imagine he’d be able to do the whole hero thing and resist pain for the good of . . . Well, frankly, there wasn’t anything worth holding out for now. He’d given the King Of The World gig his best shot, and the paranoid spook had known that something was wrong almost straight away. And Paula – Paula was most likely dead.
That still brought him awake in the middle of the night with cold sweats. A species that used nukes so easily . . . He retained his own memories of the science expedition into the Forest of Trees – his contact with Faller copies of his crewmates. The way they’d forced him onto the surface of an egg, sticking him fast, its gradual absorption of his body. Only death – well, bodyloss – had saved him, with Nigel’s help. And for what?
He’d done everything possible to help Paula and her group, only for the Fallers to kill that last remaining hope.
Losing her had probably made him careless, confirming Stonal’s suspicions. He wasn’t surprised; such a massive loss of hope had been a terrible blow. After it happened, he hadn’t got a clue what to do next; he’d only ever considered himself as Paula’s support team.
Now he spent most of his time lying on the bed, suffering recurring migraines – presumably due to his thoughts occupying a neural structure that wasn’t his own.
At least his suffering wouldn’t last much longer. Terese wouldn’t have any room on Byarn for her number-one political prisoner. And the more recollections about Byarn that bubbled up from Adolphus’s subconscious, the more he didn’t want any part of their crazy Operation Reclaim anyway.
He heard noises in the corridor outside and opened bleary eyes to look at the door, expecting the hatch to open and a food tray to be shoved through. Instead he heard the sound of another cell door being opened. Some kind of a scuffle. The unique sound of a body thudding to the ground.
‘And crudding stay there, filthy freak,’ a guard shouted.
The door was slammed shut. Keys turned in the lock.
Just for a moment, Joey allowed himself to daydream it was Stonal being thrown into the cell next door. Terese being thorough in eliminating any threats to her new regime. ‘Meet the new boss,’ he chanted. ‘Same as the old.’ But Stonal wouldn’t make that elementary mistake.
He closed his eyes and sank back into the comfort of misery and self-pity. Then his OCtattoo reported a weak link ping. ‘Anyone receiving this?’
He almost ignored it. Probably a trap, but he was thoroughly bored, and anything was better than languishing in the cell until the apocalypse hit. ‘Yeah, me.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘Adolphus.’
‘No crud. The prime minister?’
‘Ex-prime minister now, thank you.’
‘You’re an Eliter? We didn’t know.’
Joey heard the sound of guttural (and oddly liquid) laughter, and heaved himself off the bed. His world spun as he tottered over to the door, but he gritted his teeth against the nausea and abysmal headache. The link signal increased marginally as he pressed his head against the cool metal of the hatch in the door. ‘Not really. I acquired some Commonwealth enrichments recently. Who are you, pal?’
‘Roxwolf.’
‘So what did you do to get shoved down here?’
‘You don’t know my name?’
‘Sorry, no.’
‘Crud. I’m not as notorious as I thought.’
‘Yeah, don’t sweat it. I’m not quite what you’d expect either.’
‘So it would seem. You say you have some kind of Commonwealth machine that allows you to link; that’s very interesting. Are you in touch with the Eliters?’
‘Nope. Not this far underground.’
‘Ah. Pity. So nobody is coming to break you out of here?’
Joey grinned silently. His Commonwealth defence enrichments could probably cut through the door easily enough. But then what? The palace dungeons were a three-dimensional maze. Kill lots of guards – because they were doing their job. Not exactly the blaze-of-glory way he wanted to go. ‘No. How about you?’
‘No, I am alone on this world.’
‘So it looks like we’re here for the duration.’
‘Uracus!’ Roxwolf said. ‘Does the Commonwealth know of us? Will they help?’
‘No. We’re on our own. Especially now Paula is dead.’
‘I see. Ah well, at least it won’t be long.’
‘So what are you in here for?’
‘I am a mutant Faller; I had quite the gang empire going back in Opole.’
‘No shit? Wait a minute, why would you want the Commonwealth to save us?’
‘My own sp
ecies rejects me. If the apocalypse succeeds, I die. I was trying to make a deal with the human security forces: my life for information.’
‘How’s that going for you?’
‘I’ve had better days, my friend.’
‘Yeah. This government isn’t the most enlightened I’ve known.’
‘Even now, your nature puzzles me,’ Roxwolf replied. ‘How can your species ever achieve anything when you exist in perpetual conflict with each other? You flew to the stars once. That is no small achievement.’
‘Bienvenido is a special circumstance. We got hit with the Void, then your species. It hasn’t brought out our best behaviour.’
‘You speak as if you’ve seen other human societies.’
‘I have. A long time ago now. I don’t have many memories of them in this stolen body, just enough to keep my faith in humanity.’
‘So you are a visitor here? You did come from the Commonwealth?’
‘Not exactly. It’s a long story, pal.’
‘I’m not that busy right now.’
*
Chaing was slightly disappointed by the secure bunker with its stuffy, chemically tainted air and low ceiling; he’d expected something a little more striking, but this was just another government-issue office without windows. The command centre itself was a wide room with radio and telephone consoles around three of the four walls, all staffed by communication division operators. The map table in the middle had a large-scale representation of Varlan, with the river Colbal running along its southern side. Young NCOs with long poles slid circular wooden emblems into place, setting out regiment positions and nest activity.
He could see the Capital Regiment had troops deployed at the twelve major roads leading into the city; their reserves were stationed at six camps in public parks, ready to reinforce them. Two Air Force squadrons of AG-30 ground-attack planes were circling overhead. Nine Marine attack boats patrolled the river. Eight black emblems were standing in various train station yards around the outskirts, which chilled him: Aseri batteries ready to fire their nuclear-tipped missiles at any large incoming force.
Stonal stood at the head of the table, his hands resting on the edge as he surveyed his doomed domain. Master General Davorky stood beside him, talking in a low voice as they ordered fresh deployments.